


What I Want For Christmas

by animeangelriku



Category: Glee
Genre: Advent Calendar, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:41:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 10,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5334491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/animeangelriku/pseuds/animeangelriku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Twenty-four Klaine drabbles to make the wait for Christmas a little less heavy, each with a different prompt. Happy Holidays, from Kurt and Blaine!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All I Want For November Is You

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the people over at the KlaineAdvent Tumblr for the prompts that will inspire every one of these drabbles, and Happy Advent, Klainers! (... is that even a thing? Like, Happy Advent?)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: anniversary
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt really doesn't like hearing Christmas songs on his wedding anniversary on November 20th.

Blaine likes Christmas a little bit too much. 

Well, it’s not just Christmas; it’s December he loves. As soon as the 1st of the so-called Christmas month rolls around, he’s humming Christmas songs under his breath when he and Kurt make dinner together, and he’s already thinking about the decorations and the presents he wants to get for his parents and the Christmas tree they’re going to get and _oh, Kurt, won’t it look lovely next to the chimney?_

And it’s not that Kurt doesn’t enjoy and appreciate Blaine’s enthusiasm for the winter holidays. When they have kids, he’ll surely be grateful that at least they can run to Papa (or Dad, really, he doesn’t mind being called either way) and ask him to sing them their favorite carols.

But when their wedding anniversary is on November 20th, Kurt does _not_ appreciate having Christmas songs play when he comes home to a home-cooked dinner by his dear and loving husband. Still, he has to admit that Blaine’s toned it down since Kurt told him that it kind of bothered him. 

“Hey, darling,” Blaine says, always the gentleman, as soon as Kurt crosses the door to their apartment. He walks up to Kurt, with an apron still tied around his waist over a striped buttoned shirt and the really nice pair of black pants Kurt got him for his birthday, and kisses him. 

“Hey, husband,” Kurt says, and the word still tastes like honey on his tongue, even though it’s been four years since they got married. But the honey is replaced by salt when the notes of _Feliz Navidad_ reach his ears. “Blaine, sweetie, you know how much I support your devotion to Christmas—”

Before he can finish, Blaine speaks. “It’s not me this time,” he replies, turning his head slightly behind him, signaling the wall they share with their next-door neighbor. 

Kurt narrows his eyes. “I thought the apartment next to ours was empty?” He’s been incredibly busy with the LGBTQ production of _Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?_ , often coming back home late and having to leave before Blaine wakes up. He didn’t even know someone had already taken the apartment their old neighbor—an annoying single man who had hit on Blaine, much to both of their dismay—had emptied out a few weeks ago. 

“Apparently we’ve got a new neighbor,” Blaine answers. “Or new neighbors. And he or she or they seem to love Christmas even more than I do.”

“Do you think maybe we should introduce ourselves?” Kurt asks, mostly because he would like to tell their new neighbor(s) to please shut the hell up with their goddamn Christmas songs. 

“That sounds like a great idea. But first…” Blaine takes Kurt’s hand and starts dragging him to the dinner table, which is already set with two plates and two empty glasses, and Kurt can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of him at the smile on Blaine’s face, at his ridiculousness, at the way they have grown together since before they got married, and just like many other times, he wants to go back in time and tell his younger self to hang in there—in a few years’ time, he’ll have a much better life than he could have ever hoped for. 

“But first?” Kurt repeats when Blaine pulls out a chair for him to sit on.

“First,” Blaine continues, untying his apron and hanging it on its rightful place by the kitchen aisle before grabbing a champagne bottle from the sink and pouring some for Kurt. “We celebrate our anniversary.”

Then he walks back to the kitchen to pull their dinner out of the over, and Kurt really can’t hold himself back. He immediately stands up and throws his arms around Blaine’s waist, pulling his husband to himself until his back is pressed to Kurt’s chest. Blaine lets out a small yelp of surprise and then he chuckles adorably. 

“What was that for?”

“I love you,” Kurt says, and he doesn’t even mind the stupid Christmas songs anymore, even though their neighbor is now playing _All I Want For Christmas Is You_ and Kurt kind of wishes he could mentally shut off whatever device he’s using to blast it through the wall. Nothing will ruin this for him. 

“I love you, too,” Blaine says, his hands over Kurt’s arms. 

“Now, here, let me help you—”

“No, you’ve had a long day, let me—”

“Blaine, this is our anniversary—”

“Exactly! So let me pamper you for a day—”

“That’s what birthdays are for! Our anniversary is for both of us to do everything together!”

“Then what is the rest of the year for, Kurt?”

“Preparing for our anniversary, _obviously._ ”


	2. Because I Knew You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Broadway
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine sneak into a Broadway stage.

Kurt’s head is pounding, like both his brain and his heart are occupying the same space inside of it. He feels dizzy, light-headed, but he also feels like he will explode out of his body, like his physical form isn’t enough to contain him. 

“I always thought it was so much smaller,” Blaine murmurs, and it’s not loud enough to echo inside the theater. “It never looks this big when you’re in the audience, looking up at it.”

“It seems even bigger than when Rachel and I snuck in here,” Kurt says, trying to control his breathing. 

The rehearsals for his LGBTQ production of _Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?_ start tomorrow, and since Blaine has never been on a Broadway stage (though Kurt is sure that he will someday), he wanted them to do this together—to sneak inside the theater and bask in the glory of the invincibility the stage could give them once they stood on it, facing row after row of empty seats.

“And you’re going to perform right here,” Blaine says, a little louder now, as he walks around the stage, glancing up at the ceiling like he can’t quite believe he’s here. “And you’ll look absolutely fantastic.”

“I hope so,” Kurt says, getting jitters like he always does before he has to perform in front of an audience. It doesn’t matter that it’s only the rehearsals—he wants this to be perfect.

Blaine looks at him and makes his way towards his husband. Then he takes his hands and drags him to the middle of the stage, and Kurt’s smiling, grinning, laughing, when Blaine spins him around and comes to a halt beside him, like he’s showing him off to their invisible audience.

“You will,” Blaine assures him. They hold hands and turn to look at each other. 

“I can’t wait until we can perform up here together,” Kurt says. Because more than producing this play, more than performing on Broadway in front of hundreds, thousands of people, he wants to do it all beside the love of his life. 

Blaine blushes right up to his ears, and Kurt can’t resist the urge to close the gap between them and kiss his cheek. 

“Actually,” he continues, “we don’t have to wait that long for it.”

Blaine immediately knows what he means, Kurt can see it on his face. He looks around and frowns, but the smile on his face remains. “There’s no music, though,” Blaine says. “No orchestra playing for us.”

“Imagine one,” Kurt tells him, and it’s like he’s in Junior year all over again, the first time he came to New York with the New Directions, the first time they made it to Nationals. And he remembers losing and the pain of that loss but he also remembers the joy and adoration in Blaine’s face when they talked about it at the Lima Bean, the first time Blaine ever told him _I love you_ , only to follow it with years full of those three words. 

He pulls Blaine close to him, and they hold each other in an embrace as they softly start turning in a circle, almost like they’re dancing. 

Then they start singing.


	3. Can't Take My Eyes Off You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: competition
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine have a staring competition.

“You know,” Blaine says, his eyes burning with the urge to close them. “Cooper and I used to do this all the time.”

“Yeah, so?” Kurt replied. 

“Well, I’ve got experience,” Blaine answers. “I’m a staring-competition pro.”

“Are you really?” 

“I am. You should’ve never challenged me to this.”

“Maybe I did it on purpose,” Kurt tells him. “So that when I win, I can satisfyingly say that I beat a champion at his own game.”

“You’ll have to beat me first.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

Except that Kurt’s starting to feel tears on the corners of his eyes. He’s never had his eyes open for such a long time, and doing so only reminds his body of his senior year at NYADA, when he and Blaine barely saw each other. His entire being is begging him to close his eyes, but he knows that if he loses, Blaine will never let him hear the end of it. 

“Are you getting tired, Hummel?” Blaine asks him, preening at his future victory.

“Not even a bit, Anderson,” Kurt says, although he does his best to keep his eyes from watering any more. 

He doesn’t know how much longer he can last, but like _hell_ he’s going to let his husband win.


	4. 143 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: day
> 
> Or, the first day of Kurt and Blaine's honeymoon.

“You know,” Blaine says, and Kurt can see him smiling from where his chin rests on Blaine’s shoulder, his husband’s back tightly pressed to his chest as they sit on the porch of the lovely place they’re staying in for their honeymoon. “It’s been almost a hundred and forty-three hours since we got married.”

“You’ve been keeping count?” Kurt asks him, tightening his arms around Blaine’s waist. 

“Can’t help it,” Blaine says, and he leans back against Kurt and sighs contently. “And in one more hour, we’ll have been married for a hundred and forty-four hours. Or six days, if you’d rather think about it like that.”

“You did the math just now?”

“No,” his husband confesses, and Kurt can see him blushing straight up to his ears. “I did it while I was making breakfast.”

“Well, I’m impressed nonetheless,” Kurt says while he kisses Blaine’s neck. Blaine relaxes against him, his entire body melting as Kurt keeps pressing small kisses on his neck, on his jaw, on his shoulder, and then back on his neck. 

“Are you trying to burn the calories we ate in the morning?” Blaine asks, and he gasps a little when Kurt kisses under his ear and starts to suck on his skin. 

“I didn’t think I needed an excuse to kiss my husband,” Kurt answers, already starting to go hard against Blaine. “But if you need one, I’ll take it.” Blaine doesn’t add anything else, but he leans back and moans, his hands interlacing with Kurt’s. “And for being such a good husband and making breakfast for us, I’ll give you a kiss for every hour we’ve been married.”

“All hundred and forty-three?” Blaine gasps again, sensitive in that spot behind his ear that Kurt knows drives him crazy.

“No,” Kurt replies. “For all hundred and forty-four.”


	5. Don't Ever Look Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: escape
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine decide to escape their busy New York lives.

Kurt has seen his husband a total of four times in two weeks.

Four times. _In two weeks._

Blaine has been busy giving some conferences in NYU to help some students dealing with depression and anxiety, and he’s also been working on some songs that someone asked him to write (Kurt’s kind of surprised that he can remember that, lately he’s been forgetting even where he put his apartment keys before he walks out to go to work), and he’s pretty sure that some teacher called Blaine the other day to ask him if they could come to his school to talk to the kids about acceptance and finding people who love you for who you are. 

It’s not like Kurt hasn’t been busy himself. He barely leaves the theater before his phone starts ringing with another crisis: either from his lead actress, who’s having another breakdown, or from one of the musicians, who has to call in sick again, or from that guy who keeps dialing the wrong fucking number and somehow getting Kurt’s. 

Four days in a row.

This is bullshit.

Kurt would usually try to suck it up and continue with his life. He and Blaine have had to do it for the past few months, and they have agreed to have at least one day a week where they get to see each other for at least two hours and talk about themselves: what might be bothering them from work, from the apartment (like the fact that their sink broke down again), even from each other, in case Blaine forgot to do the laundry or Kurt forgot to buy more milk. 

But he can’t do this anymore. He can’t go on seeing his husband two times a week, especially when one of those times they only have a few minutes to kiss each other goodbye before not seeing each other until their next Assigned Date Day. He just can’t.

On their next Assigned Date Day, the first thing Kurt does is hold Blaine’s hands in his and kiss him soundly on the mouth. They sink into it, with Blaine letting go of one of Kurt’s hands so that he can grab Kurt’s shirt and pull him closer, and Kurt moans against him and kisses him back even more fiercely. 

When they break away, they’re gasping for breath, and Kurt wants to make some joke about how they’re getting old if just a kiss leaves them like this, but Blaine has always taken his breath away. 

“Hey, husband,” Blaine pants, smiling as he presses their foreheads together.

“Hey, husband,” Kurt replies, grinning. “What do you think about running away?”

Blaine immediately frowns, but he keeps smiling. “Running away?”

“Yes. I know we have been really busy lately, but I can’t stand not seeing you more than a couple hours every day,” Kurt says, his hands on Blaine’s back to pull his husband closer. “So I thought that we could, you know, escape the busy reality of New York for a few days and just focus on ourselves.”

Blaine seems to think it over, and Kurt doesn’t push him to make a decision. He hasn’t made any plans other than to cancel his own, in case Blaine decides to accept his proposal. If he doesn’t… well, they can try some other time, when he feels more comfortable abandoning his work for a while. 

But then Blaine is smiling in that way that makes his eyes scrunch up, and when he kisses Kurt, Kurt feels like he’s back in high school, being kissed for the first time by the boy he loves all over again. 

“I think,” Blaine mumbles against his lips, “that that’s a wonderful idea.”

“I always have wonderful ideas,” Kurt says teasingly, already making a mental list of the plans he has to cancel for the next four or five days, at least. 

“Yes,” Blaine agrees. “And that’s why I married you.”

“So it wasn’t my incredible looks, my voice or my skills in bed that made you want to marry me?”

“Well, those were some bonuses I just couldn’t say no to.”

“I’m glad to know that,” Kurt says, grinning when Blaine leans in to kiss him again.


	6. Winter Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: fan
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine whines about the heat of November while Kurt fans him.

“It’s the 30th of November, _Kurt_ ,” Blaine whines as sweat drips down the sides of his head while Kurt fans him with a handmade fan that Kurt created out of a sheet of paper. “It shouldn’t be this hot. It shouldn’t be hot _at all_. This is ridiculous.”

“I know, honey, I know,” Kurt says, having gotten used to this strange winter heat since the first day they woke up and it was unusually warm for the last days of November. He wouldn’t normally say this, but he kind of misses the cold. He misses waking up snuggled up to his husband, both of them desperate to keep some warmth between them before they have to get out of bed. He misses making hot chocolate instead of coffee during those especially cold evenings when all they want to do is sit on the couch, wrapped around in covers and blankets while they watch a movie. 

Now just thinking about that makes him start to sweat a little. 

“How can you stand this?” Blaine asks him, his arms splayed at his sides like he can’t be bothered to move at all. 

“Well, I’m thinking that soon it’ll be your turn to fan me,” Kurt answers, and Blaine turns his head to look at him and feign offense. 

“So you’re just doing this because you know I’ll do it in return?”

“That’s married life for you, baby,” Kurt says, leaning down to kiss the fake offense off his ridiculous husband’s mouth.


	7. O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: guide
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine don't know how to set up an artificial Christmas tree.

“It says here that most trees come in two or three pieces so that they can easily be assembled together—”

“Well, _this_ specific tree doesn’t have two or three pieces, it’s got about _twenty_.”

“Oh, c’mon, Kurt, I don’t think the tree— it—it literally has like twenty pieces.”

“I told you!”

“Okay, okay, so it’s got like twenty pieces, how much more difficult could it be?”

“I’m guessing _a lot_ , Blaine!”

“Are you sure that the instructions guide isn’t in the box of this thing?”

“I’m pretty sure, after checking every inch of the freaking box _twice_.”

“All right, Mr. Grumpy Pants—” 

“What else does it say on that WikiHow article?”

“Uh… it says that we have to start with the bottom piece… ‘slotting the bottom of the pole into the top of the base.’”

“And what part’s the bottom of the pole?”

“… you know, I’m starting to reconsider your _let’s get a natural Christmas tree_ idea.”

“And what are we going to do with this one? Just put it away inside the closet forever?”

“Well, I heard that Rachel and Jesse were looking for an artificial Christmas tree so that they wouldn’t have to sweep the loose pine leaves off their floor.”

“… I think I’m falling in love with you all over again, Blaine.”

“I’d hope so, because I can’t carry a natural Christmas tree inside our apartment all by myself.”


	8. Baby, Come to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: hope
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine is scared that he and Kurt are never getting a baby.

The adoption agency lady has been out of their apartment for exactly three seconds before Blaine lets out the breath he’s been holding since she walked in. 

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks him, rushing over to Blaine to wrap his arms around him and run his hands up and down his back. 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” Blaine says, but Kurt can see that he’s not being entirely honest. He looks just fine, but his husband knows him well enough to know that he’s still tense. Kurt remains quiet, waiting for Blaine to tell him what’s wrong.

Blaine exhales through his nose. “Do you really think she was impressed with us?”

“I think we did an amazing job,” Kurt confesses, thinking that the worst is over now, that he can finally breathe because everything went good, everything went great, and all they need to do now is wait to be called, to be told that there’s a baby waiting for them.

“Really?” Blaine asks, and Kurt knows that, while he’s relieved that the interview is over, Blaine is all the more worried because of it. _He_ thinks the worst part is what comes next. 

“Really,” Kurt says, his voice as soothing as he can make it out to be. “I bet you that she fell in love with our home and with us and with _you_ , and she probably thinks that you’re going to be the best father ever for a baby girl or a baby boy who hasn’t even been born yet.”

Blaine smiles a little abashedly, blushing right up to his ears, and he hides his face in Kurt’s chest while Kurt hugs him as tight as humanly possible, trying to keep his husband together. 

“I hope you’re right,” Blaine mumbles, his voice muffled by the fabric of Kurt’s sweater. 

“Don’t worry, Blaine. Everything’s going to be okay. One of these days, that phone will ring, and when we answer it, whoever’s on the other side of the phone will tell us that we’re getting a baby.”

When, a few weeks later, the adoption agency lady calls them and tells them a young woman chose them to be the parents of her unborn child, Kurt can’t help but playfully tease Blaine about how he should listen to his husband more often.


	9. No Motherfickle Time to Spare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: indecent
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine doesn't cuss.

Kurt knows that Blaine is not one to cuss or to say curse words. 

Except for whenever they’re intimate with each other, of course (and Kurt loves it, he does, he _does_ , he always gets turned on when a breathy _fuck_ slips past Blaine’s lips).

But otherwise, Blaine is a very… proper man. Incredibly so, if Kurt might say so himself, because he’s the one that gets to hear his husband do anything he can to avoid saying words he would not say around children. 

Well, except for “ass”, but Kurt has never considered “ass” a cuss word. 

(Kurt believes that Blaine is practicing for when they have a child—a beautiful girl, he wishes—and they have to be careful about what they say around their baby, and his heart kind of skips a beat at the thought.)

He thinks about this as he witnesses Blaine talking on the phone with some co-worker of his who always does some stupid crap to get on Blaine’s nerves, any chance he gets. Blaine keeps biting his lip and closing his eyes and clenching his hand into a fist to stop himself from cursing. 

“No, no, n- _no_ ,” he says, too angry to speak correctly. Kurt is on the kitchen, preparing lunch for them before they have to go their separate ways again. “Are you _freaking_ kidding me?!” Blaine shouts into the phone, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ _Are you actually freaking kidding me right now_?!”

Kurt tries not to laugh. His husband is incredibly adorable when he’s trying not to cuss, even if he’s this angry. 

“Well,” he hears Blaine say after a couple seconds of tense silence. “Then I will find someone who _will_!” He hangs up the phone and looks about two seconds away from throwing it against the wall, so Kurt calls off a hurried, “So, how did it go?”

“ _Motherfickle son of a…_ ” 

Oh, man. Kurt has only heard Blaine say “motherfickle” once, and he forgot how ridiculous it sounded and yet how _fucking cute_ it was to hear him say it. Not even hearing him cry out an “Oh, bother!” once when a plate accidentally slipped from his hands as he was doing the dishes was this amusing. 

He thinks back to his theory of Blaine practicing for when they have a baby around the house, and then his mind wanders and Kurt starts thinking of their unborn little girl growing up in a house where even saying “ass” is considered indecent, where their girl will be sixteen and get into her first argument with Kurt or Blaine and instead of yelling something along the lines of “Why the fuck can’t you listen to me?!” she’ll say something like, “Motherfickle, you’re not listening to a word I’m saying!” She will sound exactly like Blaine and Kurt will wonder if there’s a chance she is actually biologically Blaine’s. 

“What are you smiling about?” Blaine’s voice brings him out of his expectations for their hypothetical future, and he’s glad to see that his husband no longer looks like he could murder someone. 

“Nothing,” Kurt says, shrugging like he didn’t just picture their unborn baby being sixteen and saying _Motherfickle_ , only for Blaine to stare in utter disbelief at the indecency of their child. After the argument, he would probably tell Kurt, _When have I ever said ‘motherfickle’ around her? I’m always so careful, when did I say it in front of her?!_ “Just thinking about the amazing father you’re going to be.”


	10. What's In the Box?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: jumble
> 
> Or, the one where a stack of boxes falls on top of Kurt.

“The only thing left to do,” Kurt says, stepping back from the Christmas tree they’ve just finished decorating to admire the wonderful job they did on it, “is to put the star on the top.”

He turns to Blaine, who, he remembers, was the one to get the star from the boxes of decorations all jumbled together in a corner of the attic. But Blaine is looking at him with an expectant smile.

“So,” Blaine says, “where is it?”

“Weren’t you the one who got it out of the attic?”

Blaine’s smile immediately vanishes. “No,” he says, “didn’t you?”

“No, I—I thought you had,” Kurt answers. 

They keep looking at each other for a few seconds, like they can’t believe how they could’ve reached this point, and then they start speaking at the same time until Kurt lifts his hand. “I’ll go get it, don’t worry,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss Blaine before he makes his way into the attic. 

Once he’s there, Kurt looks for the small box in the shape of a star, where the final touch to their perfect Christmas tree is kept. There are a lot of giant empty boxes in their labeled _Christmas decorations_ corner, and Kurt wonders how he’s going to find their star in such a mess. 

“You need any help, babe?” Blaine calls out.

“I’m just fine, honey!” Kurt replies, and he starts to carefully move the empty boxes aside to look for his star-shaped one. Finally, he sees it, right atop a stack of boxes that Kurt hadn’t paid any attention to. “Oh, there it is,” he thinks to himself.

Except that the stack of boxes is way too high for Kurt to reach on his own. 

No, he’s sure he can do it. He just needs to stretch his arm and stand on his tiptoes and he will reach…

Kurt doesn’t have the chance to enjoy the victory of finding the star and actually reaching it, since he’s held it for less than two seconds when the stack of boxes collapses and falls on top of him, giving him only time to yelp helplessly. 

Down in their living room, Blaine hears a crash come from the attic and his husband scream.

“You need any help now, babe?” he cries.


	11. Kinky Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: kink
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine has a kink in his hair.

Waking up next to Blaine still feels like it felt the first day it happened. It still makes Kurt feel, _Oh my god, this man is mine and I get to keep him for the rest of my life. I get to be his and I get to be with him for as long as I live._

It’s a nice thought to wake up to, if Kurt does say so himself. 

Even if the night before was tiring as hell, even if they’ve had an argument, even if they haven’t seen each other in days, even if they’ve only spoke two hours in the entirety of the week, whenever Kurt wakes up and Blaine is deeply asleep next to him, Kurt thinks he must be the luckiest man in the world. 

He gets up to make breakfast for them, since it’s his turn, and he can’t help but hum quietly as he stands in the kitchen, cooking. He’s so distracted that he jumps a little when he feels his husband’s arms wrap around him, Blaine’s face pressed into his back, breathing him in. 

“Morning, husband,” Blaine rasps, his voice still tainted with sleepiness.

“Morning, husband,” Kurt echoes, flipping a blueberry pancake on the pan. Blaine stands on his tiptoes to see the stove over Kurt’s shoulder.

“That smells wonderful,” he says, and Kurt turns his head to look over at him and to mutter a, “It does, doesn’t it?” But before he can do it, he’s overtaken by a laugh that bubbles out of him before he can contain it.

“What?” Blaine asks, confused by the sudden laughter.

“You’ve got a…” Kurt signals to his head with the spatula still in his hand. “You’ve got a kink.”

Blaine is frowning now, letting go of Kurt to stand next to him. “Why are you talking about kinks when we haven’t even had breakfast?”

“No, no—” Kurt laughs again, fully turning around to stand face to face with his husband. “I meant you have a kink in your hair,” he says, grabbing one of the only strands of hair that’s managed to get loose of the gel Blaine is determined to wear, even to bed. The hair is bent upon itself, standing out from the rest of its gel-prisoned brethren. “Like a sore thumb,” Kurt says as he softly grabs it between his fingers. 

“A sore thumb, eh?” Blaine smiles mischievously. “Where have I heard that before?”

He goes back to wrapping his arms around Kurt and leaning against his back while Kurt keeps humming and flipping pancakes into the air.


	12. The Future of Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: legend
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine are Broadway legends.

“Did you ever think it would get to this?” Kurt asks, his smile widening every second since Blaine showed him the article on _E! Online._

“Not in the slightest,” Blaine says. He still can’t believe it himself, it’s so… so unbelievable, so… so utterly incredible, so… well, he really can’t quite find words to explain just how amazed he is by all of this. “Did you?”

“Not at all.” Kurt leans against him, his cheek pressed to Blaine’s shoulder. He’s playing with his fingers, placing them on top of his lips like he wants to nibble on his nails, and Blaine thinks he looks adorable. 

They continue staring with huge, matching grins on their faces at the article on Blaine’s phone that reads, _Kurt and Blaine Anderson-Hummel, Legends of Broadway: The power-couple that’s taking the theatre world by storm!_


	13. By the Light of the Silvery Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: moon
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine have a moonlit dinner.

Blaine usually doesn’t like it when the power goes out, especially in the middle of winter, in the middle of _December_ , only a few days before Christmas Eve. He actually kind of hates it, because the heater stops working and all the lights they have go out and the apartment feels colder and he just doesn’t like the cold all that much, all right?

And tonight, the black-out just ruined their dinner.

“Oh, crap,” Kurt says as soon as he realizes that the power isn’t coming back during the next few minutes. “Okay, c’mon.”

“Where to?” Blaine wonders, following his husband into an unknown location inside their apartment. He immediately reaches out to grab Kurt’s hand, since there’s a history of lesser, tiny injuries and wounds from other blackouts. 

“The kitchen,” Kurt says, always the one to know their home by heart, even in pitch darkness. He keeps Blaine from stumbling against the doorframe or from hitting himself against some table. 

“Why are we going to the kitchen?” Blaine knows that they haven’t bought any new flashlights, because they both keep forgetting to do so when they go to the grocery store. 

“Because,” Kurt answers, and he lets go of Blaine’s hand for a second. Then Blaine hears creaking, the sound of the doors underneath the sink opening. “We’re going to have dinner.”

“How? We can’t even see each other.”

“That’s why we’re here.” Suddenly Kurt’s face lights up, and Blaine can see that he has a candle in one hand and a match in the other one, which he blows out. “We’ll use the black-out as an excuse to have a candlelit dinner while we sit under the moon.”

Blaine raises an eyebrow. “Under the moon?”

“That’s right,” Kurt replies. He makes his way to the living room, and he opens the curtains of the tallest window in their entire apartment. The moon is high on the sky, and with the curtains open, the light from it shines down inside their apartment, helping a lot more than a few candles will. 

Nonetheless, Blaine helps his husband set the coffee table as if it were their dining table. He places a couple of candles around their plates, and the overall light casts a romantic setting inside their home, which—Blaine realizes—doesn’t feel that cold anymore. 

“See?” Kurt clinks his champagne glass with Blaine’s. “Wasn’t this a good idea?”

“No,” Blaine says. Before Kurt can get mad at him, he leans in and kisses Kurt, softly and deeply at the same time. When they break away, he speaks again. “It was a _wonderful_ idea.”

If Blaine has to deal with this many blackouts while they’re living in New York, he can handle it if it means they can have dinner with his husband under the moonlight.


	14. Counting Tiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: number
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine counts things when he gets nervous.

When Kurt gets nervous, he becomes superstitious: he chooses clothes of certain colors or other little things that are associated with good luck. Blaine does them, too, if only for Kurt’s sake, so that his husband can breathe for a second.

When Blaine gets nervous, he counts. He counts anything and everything he can, from the buttons of all the shirts he and Kurt own to how many times he can mop the floor before his hands start wrinkling. So far, their collection of shirts amounts to a hundred and forty-three buttons, and he can mop the entire apartment three times and a half before Kurt comments on how his gorgeous hands are starting to look like beautiful tiny raisins. 

But sometimes, when he’s especially nervous about something, he counts out loud, and Kurt can hear his voice as he mumbles from inside their room. 

“Thirty-three… thirty-four… thirty-five…”

Kurt doesn’t really know how to help Blaine when he gets so nervous that he gets lost in his counting. 

“Wait, was that thirty-eight or thirty-nine?” Blaine asks him.

“Thirty-eight, honey,” Kurt says with a soft smile that reassures Blaine. “That was tile number thirty-eight.”

“Oh, okay, thank you. Thirty-eight… thirty-nine…”

But the least he can do for now is to make sure his husband doesn’t lose count.


	15. Before the Tide Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ocean
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine writes his and Kurt's names on the sand.

“Blaine, what are you doing?” 

Blaine turns around to Kurt, who has gotten up from his seat under the shade to investigate what his husband has been working on for the past ten minutes. 

“I’m writing our names into the sand!” Blaine stands up from his masterpiece, his hands on his hips, proud of his results. Indeed, there are letters made out of sand that read _KURT & BLAINE HUMMEL-ANDERSON_, and Kurt laughs joyfully when he sees them. He sees the bucket that Blaine had to repeatedly fill with water from the ocean to create this beautiful piece of art, and he can’t help but admire the effort his husband put into it.

“It looks beautiful,” Kurt says, wrapping an arm around Blaine’s shoulders. He hears the waves crashing on the beach, and he saddens just a tiny bit. “But when the tide rises, the ocean will erase all your hard work.”

Blaine’s eyes widen and his eyebrows furrow, but then he smiles again. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. We still have a few hours before the tide rises. Do you think we’ll see it from the balcony of our room?”

Kurt turns around to the building where they’re staying during their vacations. “Yeah,” he says, recognizing their balcony. “I’m sure we will.”


	16. Late at Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: passion
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine's passion keeps him awake.

When Kurt gets home in the early hours of the morning, he expects Blaine to be asleep already, expects to walk inside their apartment and hear Blaine snoring softly from their room. What he finds as soon as he walks through the door is his husband sitting at the dining table with the light turned on, hunched over a stack of papers that he keeps revising, a red pen in his hand.

“Hey,” Kurt greets him softly, knowing that if Blaine is still awake at this hour, it means he’s working, he’s tired as hell, and it’s better if Kurt doesn’t raise his voice. Blaine’s very… delicate in these situations. He kind of acts like he’s drunk, like he’s not entirely aware of his surroundings, and any little thing can set him off and suddenly make him want to bake cookies in an oven that isn’t even turned on, or wash perfectly clean dishes, or something along those lines.

“Hey,” Blaine greets him, raising his head to smile at Kurt before he lowers it back again to the stack of papers strewn on the dining table. 

“What are you doing awake so late?” Kurt wonders, slowly and carefully making his way to his husband. Once he’s standing behind him, he leans down and wraps his arms around Blaine’s neck, snuggling his chin on his shoulder.

“I’m re-writing some instrument arrangements for these songs,” Blaine says. The hand that’s not holding the pen reaches up to touch Kurt’s arms around his neck, and it makes Kurt smile happily, their cheeks pressed together. 

“And it couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

“I had some inspiration.” Blaine tries to stifle a yawn, but Kurt can see how exhausted he is. How long has he been awake already? “I didn’t want to let it go to waste.”

“You’re so passionate about this,” says Kurt, his smile widening into a grin. He should’ve known that Blaine would risk an all-nighter to do this right. He’ll probably be sleepy throughout the entire day tomorrow, maybe even complain about not getting enough sleep—maybe he won’t even remember doing this, he _truly_ looks two seconds away from passing out in exhaustion—but he’ll look over at his rewritten arrangements and think that he won’t mind doing this again if the chance arrives. 

And Kurt loves him all the more for it. 

“Do you want me to make you some coffee?” he asks Blaine.

Blaine sighs contently and mumbles, “That’d be wonderful,” under his breath, loud enough for Kurt to hear him.

“Coming right up,” he says, kissing his husband’s cheek before he heads to the kitchen.


	17. A Little House on the Hill (And Children's Names)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: question
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine and Kurt talk about having children.

It’s already past three in the morning when Kurt hears Blaine mutter, “Do you ever think about us having kids?”

“Yeah,” Kurt answers immediately. He opens his eyes and finds Blaine’s only half-open. “All the time.”

It’s always in the back of his head, the idea of having a child, or more than one. Even though most of the time he’s either busy or trying to relax for a while with his husband, that thought is always there, in his reach, and any little thing can set it off and make Kurt yearn to hold a child in his arms. 

It isn’t like he and Blaine have never talked about having kids—they have, of course, and several times—but they have always agreed that it’s too soon for them. Right now, their careers are barely starting, they’re just getting out there into the world. They don’t think that a child is going to ruin that, but they’re afraid that with the amount of work they have at the moment, they won’t be able to take care of their baby girl or boy, and all they want to do once they have a baby is to spend as much time with him or her as humanly possible. 

“I kind of want a girl,” Blaine mumbles sleepily, and Kurt smiles, cuddling closer so that he can nuzzle his nose against Blaine’s. 

“A girl?”

“Yes,” Blaine says, closing his eyes. “A girl called Lucy.”

Kurt grins. He’s so close to Blaine that he can feel his husband’s breath on his face. “Lucy,” he repeats. “I like it. Eliza is a good name, too.”

“Or Elizabeth,” Blaine yawns. “So that she can share her Papa’s middle name.”

“Oh, so I’m Papa now?” Kurt asks, but he’s really trying not to choke up on the words. He can imagine it perfectly: a little girl with bright brown eyes, like Blaine’s, and maybe she’ll have Blaine’s black curls or his own locks of brown hair, and she’ll wave her arms up and down as she runs towards him and screams in delight, _Papa, Papa, up, up!_ Kurt sniffles, swallowing back tears at the mere thought of it. Of having a family with Blaine. 

“You’d be the greatest Papa for Elizabeth,” Blaine mutters, his eyes still closed. Kurt wonders if he’s fallen asleep and is talking in his dreams. “Or Eliza. Or Lucy.”

“What if we have a boy instead?” Kurt prompts, and Blaine’s eyebrows furrow adorably, so he leans in to kiss the space between them. 

“Then you’ll be the greatest Papa for Elliott,” Blaine answers. “Or Lucian.”

“I will not name my son Lucian,” says Kurt in the middle of a yawn. 

“Why not?” Blaine asks, and Kurt certainly believes, a hundred percent, that Blaine is arguing with him in a dream, and he won’t remember this by the time he wakes up in a few hours to go to work. 

“Because I’d rather have a daughter named Lucy than a son named Lucian,” he answers, and he lets his eyes fall closed for a second. “I like the name Andrew for a boy, though. Or Michael. Or—” He yawns again, trying to remember what names they chose for their future children when Blaine was still in his senior year. At this point, he’s too tired to think, and all he wants to do is go back to sleep. “—or Tracy. I like Tracy.” 

“Mh-hm,” Blaine hums in agreement, but he’s probably not listening to a word Kurt is saying anymore.

When he falls back asleep, Kurt dreams of his beautiful baby girl, of gorgeous, precious Lucy, or Eliza, or Elizabeth, and his beautiful baby boy, of gorgeous, precious Lucian, or Andrew, or Michael, or Tracy. His little girl has Blaine’s eyes and mop of curls, and his little boy has his eyes and his locks of hair, and he’s Papa and Blaine’s Dada until their children can speak well enough to say “Daddy” instead, and he takes his little girl into his arms because she keeps saying, _Papa, Papa, up, up!_ and his little boy is sitting on Blaine’s shoulders, holding on to his head so that he doesn’t fall, and his life is filled with joyous laughter and a family he loves more than anything else. 

And Kurt couldn’t be happier.


	18. Right Round, Right Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: regret
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine have a hell of a hangover.

_Well,_ Kurt thinks, _at least I know that the world seems to be spinning for Blaine, too._

They’re both sitting on stools at the kitchen isle, their elbows on top of it and holding their respective head in their hands. Kurt’s pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, and Blaine is pressing his against his temples. They both take a deep breath and let out a loud groan.

“Never again,” Blaine says, and Kurt tries to burp—maybe that’ll make him feel better—but all it does is make him want to throw up. Maybe he _should_ throw up and just let out all the alcohol in his system. 

“Agree,” he ends up mumbling, surprised by how loud his voice sounds to his own ears. 

“How did we even get so drunk?” Blaine asks him before groaning again. “God, my head’s _killing_ me.”

“Please don’t mention your head,” Kurt says. He feels dizzy just thinking about the migraine throbbing at the back of his own skull. Everything just keeps _spinning_ around him, it’s like he’s in the Merry-Go-Round from Hell. “And I imagine we got so drunk because we just kept drinking.”

“ _Never again_ ,” Blaine groans. Then he abruptly drops from his stool and rushes to the bathroom, and all Kurt can say as he listens to his husband puke his guts out is, _“Agree.”_


	19. Don't Let the Bedbugs Bite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: shift
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine just won't stay still.

Kurt is a calm sleeper. He rarely moves during the night: if he fell asleep lying face-down, he will wake up still lying face-down. Most of the time, anyway. He may be loud, and sometimes when he’s particularly tired, he snores loud enough to wake up their annoying next-apartment neighbor, but he usually doesn’t move all that much.

 _Blaine_ , on the _other_ hand…

Some days, when Blaine is already asleep by the time he comes home, Kurt lies next to his husband and wraps his arms around him, because it seems to help Blaine stay still. But some other days, he’s too exhausted to do anything other than collapse onto the bed, and he’ll wake up several times during the night because his husband keeps shifting from side to side, stealing the covers every so often. 

It’s a miracle he hasn’t kicked Kurt in the shin or something. Or, at least, that’s what he thinks before a rather aggressive shift from Blaine sends him rolling down to the ground.


	20. Painting Kisses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: time
> 
> Or, the one where Blaine is the worst husband in the world.

Kurt opens the door to their apartment to find Blaine with a bucket of paint at his feet and the contents of said bucket dripping all over him, soaking the top of his head and slowly making its way down the rest of him. His arms are held in front of him as he shakes them, trying to get as much paint off him as he can. He’s still holding a paintbrush in his hand, which, ironically, has no paint on it at all. 

Kurt sees the ladder by Blaine’s side and the plastic on the ground and on top of all the furniture and it’s not that difficult to put two and two together. 

“Hey, husband,” he says, and Blaine turns towards the sound of his voice. He wipes at his eyes with his thumbs to brush the paint off them, and he blinks at Kurt.

“Hey, husband,” Blaine greets him with a paint-covered smile. 

“Had a little accident?”

“It’s the _second_ time this happens!” Blaine groans and makes his way to the kitchen to grab some paper towels, walking with his legs wide open, and Kurt covers his mouth with his fist so that he doesn’t laugh at the image of his adorable husband walking like a duck. 

“I was _about_ to start painting the walls,” Blaine says, his voice muffled by the paper towel in his hands. “But then I went and tripped with the ladder and the bucket of paint fell on top of me.” Then he rubs at his head, and Kurt immediately rushes to him and softly presses his fingers to Blaine’s skull. 

“Does it hurt?” 

“Not much. It would definitely hurt less if you kissed it better.”

Blaine hangs his head low and looks up at Kurt and pouts and Kurt really wants to kiss Blaine’s head better, but…

“I _would_ ,” he says, “except that you’re covered in beige paint.”

“So?”

“ _So_ ,” Kurt continues. “I don’t want to get paint on my face.”

Blaine’s eyes widen, and he opens his mouth in shock. “Well,” he says, and before Kurt can stop him, he leans in and presses a quick kiss to Kurt’s cheek, smudging paint all over the side of his face, and Kurt almost _screeches_.

“ _Blaine Anderson!_ ” he yells, jumping back from his husband. Blaine is all smiles now, and he holds his arms open and starts to walk towards Kurt. He wouldn’t _dare_ … “Blaine,” Kurt says warningly, slowly stepping away from Blaine. “Now’s not the time to be funny.”

“Oh, really?” Blaine says as he continues to close the distance between them. “I think it’s the perfect time to be funny.”

And so Kurt just sprints away from the kitchen as fast as he can, with Blaine’s steps and laughter echoing behind him.


	21. Squished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: underneath
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt doesn't mind being underneath Blaine.

It’s not the most comfortable position to be in, but Kurt really doesn’t mind.

“Are you sure I’m not squishing you?” Blaine asks for what seems to be the millionth time. He lifts his head high enough to look down at Kurt lying underneath him, but Kurt simply smiles and shakes his head.

“I’m fine, honey, really,” he says, because Blaine isn’t that heavy and he’s perfectly fine like this: his arms wrapped tightly around his husband while Blaine rests his head on his chest. Also, it gives him the chance to unabashedly stare at Blaine’s long and beautiful eyelashes and the shape of his nose and his gorgeous, _gorgeous_ lips—it gives him the chance to caress the loose curls on the back of his head and wonder how he ended up having such a perfect life, where he can press Blaine close to himself as they watch a movie on the couch, the bowl of popcorn on the ground long forgotten. 

“But you’ll tell me if I’m squishing you, right?” Blaine asks, still looking at him. Kurt tries not to roll his eyes. He fails miserably.

“I promise,” he replies. “I _swear_ I’ll tell you if you’re squishing me, okay?”

His answer seems to please Blaine enough, so he rests his head on its rightful place upon Kurt’s chest, and Kurt lets out a content hum.


	22. In Sickness and In Health

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: vow
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt is a whiny sick.

Blaine doesn’t know how this had never occurred to him before. Now that he thinks about it, he really couldn’t have known that this was going to happen. It’s not like Kurt has really gotten sick before. In any case, Blaine has been the one who’s had to stay in bed, coughing too much to speak a full sentence without having to stop to breathe at least once.

All he hears coming from their room since Kurt wakes up that morning is, “ _Blaaaaaaine_ ,” followed by a plea or a whine or something along those lines. So far, he’s heard, “I’m _hungryyyyyyy_ ,” and, “I’m _cooooooooold_ ,”, and “I can’t _sleeeeeeeeeep!_ ” and numerous other combinations, and he never knew Kurt has the tendency to draw out the last word of any sentence he speaks whenever he’s sick. 

If he had known before that Kurt was such a _whiny_ sick, he would’ve seriously reconsidered this whole married thing. 

“No, no, no taksies-backsies now,” Kurt says as soon as Blaine happens to mention, _If we didn’t really say it in our vows, we’re not bound to do it, right?_ He was _kidding_. Well, mostly kidding, anyway. “You’re supposed to take care of me—” Kurt stops mid-sentence to go through the painful five-seconds-long process of sneezing, and his entire body trembles and okay, Blaine feels horrible watching him suffer like this, he truly does. “—like I take care of you when you’re sick!” Kurt says, sniffling, his eyes so watery that it looks like he’s been crying for a while. He’s got a runny nose, so it hasn’t been too difficult for him to breathe in through his nose, but he barely has time for it between all the coughing and the sneezing and the sniffling he’s been doing all morning.

Blaine sits down on the edge bed with a small plastic tray and a bowl of soup upon it, along with a piece of bread, a glass of water, and an aspirin. 

“I _am_ taking care of you, aren’t I?” Blaine replies, and Kurt simply pouts. He’s bundled up in blankets and his nose and his cheeks are red and Blaine would actually kiss him, he _would_ , but then Kurt would start yelling, _No, get off me_ —cough— _I’m SICK, Blaine Anderson-Hummel!_

“I just feel so _miserable_ ,” Kurt moans, cuddling deeper into his pillow and his nest of blankets.

“I know, honey, I know,” Blaine says as he pushes a strand of hair off Kurt’s forehead and behind his ear. “Hopefully this will help you feel better.”

After Kurt has finished his soup in agonizingly slow spoonfuls (and between a few sneezes and one or two fits of horrible coughing), Blaine gives him the aspirin and then tucks him once again into his blanket burrito. Kurt’s eyes start drooping, and Blaine knows that he should go get the cold medicine so that Kurt takes at least a sip of it before he falls asleep. 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, getting up from the bed. But before he can leave, Kurt manages to break one of his arms free from his blanket prison and softly clasp Blaine’s hand in his sweaty fingers. “What is it? Do you need anything else?”

Kurt shakes his head—and for a moment, Blaine fears it’ll snap right out of his neck—and shakily gets to a sitting position. Then he holds his arms out, like he’s expecting to be carried. Or embraced. Blaine smiles at him, and he sits down again so that he can hug his husband and wrap his arms around him and press their bodies together as much as he can without hurting Kurt. 

“Thank you,” Kurt sniffles, his voice heavy with sleep. “For taking care of me. I love you.” 

And Blaine’s heart breaks a little. But it’s the good kind of heartbreak, the one he never thought existed until he met Kurt. “You’re welcome,” he says, pressing Kurt just a little tighter against him. “I did vow to do it.”

Kurt scoffs—or as much as he can. “You didn’t really vow to do it.”

“No,” Blaine agrees. “But it was kind of implied.”

Kurt doesn’t say anything else, and Blaine gives himself the chance to hug him a little more.


	23. I Wish, I Wish With All My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: wish
> 
> Or, the one where Kurt and Blaine tie wish lists to balloons.

“Did you ever make a list for Santa and then tied it to a balloon when you were a kid?”

On Sundays they both do the dishes together, so Kurt can only turn to Blaine and raise an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

“You know,” Blaine says. “You wrote down your wish list, and then you tied it to a balloon and let it out into the open air so that your wish list got to Santa.”

“No,” Kurt answers. “At least, I don’t remember doing it. It seems kind of silly, doesn’t it?”

“No, I know,” his husband says. “But when you’re a kid, you don’t really think about that. Cooper and I used to do it every year; Mom would buy the balloons and Dad would help us tie our wish lists to them. Then we all gathered outside to let go of the balloons, and I used to watch them as they floated out into the sky until they disappeared.”

Kurt still finds the entire thing weird. How do you convince a child that they need to send a balloon with his wish list up to the sky, just to make them believe that it’ll get them everything they ask for on Christmas? How do you make them stop believing when you decide they’re old enough, that they’re too old to keep doing this for them?

He tries to picture a young Blaine excitedly jumping up and down, standing on his house’s lawn as he watches his balloon vanish into the clouds, his wish list to Santa attached to it. How he must have felt, knowing that he’d done everything in his power to make sure that Santa Claus knew exactly what he wanted for Christmas. Kurt tries to imagine what Blaine would’ve asked for: a puppy, probably. Or a Goosebumps book, given that he still greatly enjoys them. Or a princess Ariel and a prince Eric dolls to play with. Did those dolls exist when they were kids? Kurt can’t remember. 

“Interesting,” Kurt says. 

“I really can’t believe you never did that,” Blaine says, almost to himself. 

“No, my wish list always went to my dad,” Kurt replies with a smile. “He was the one who always made sure it got to Santa, every year.”

Blaine laughs and softly splashes Kurt, almost like he’s afraid of wetting any other part of him that aren’t his hands, and Kurt splashes him right back.

The wish-list-tied-to-a-balloon conversation is left there, neither of them mentioning it again, but Kurt can’t really erase it off his head. It’s constantly in the back of his mind, even more with Christmas rapidly approaching. He still needs to buy some presents, though he already knows what he’s going to buy everyone—and every time he thinks about gift-shopping, he remembers Blaine’s story. It seemed to mean so much to Blaine, doing that every year until who knows when; and Kurt feels horrible that it meant so much to him and he didn’t even know it was a thing Blaine used to do when he was a child. 

He decides to make things right. 

A few days before Christmas—right now he’s lost in time, he doesn’t know if it’s the 20th or the 21st—Kurt goes to buy wrapping paper, ribbon, and four balloons (because he’s being cautious, and maybe just a little bit paranoid). Then he calls Blaine out onto the fire escape as he holds the deflated balloons and the ribbon on his hands, along with two sheets of paper and a pen. 

When Blaine steps out the window and onto the fire escape, he glances at the items his husband is holding and raises an eyebrow. “Kurt?” he asks, smiling. “What’s all this?”

“This,” Kurt says, “is to send our wish lists to Santa for Christmas.” He hands Blaine one of the sheets of paper and the pen. His own wish list is already written, and he’s trying to roll it up so that he can tie it to the ribbon. 

Blaine looks like he wants to smile but isn’t sure about it yet. “I beg your pardon?”

“We’re sending our wish lists to Santa Claus,” Kurt repeats. At the look on Blaine’s face, he kind of starts feeling self-conscious, and he starts to wonder if this was such a good idea after all. What if this is more of a bittersweet memory than something Blaine wants to repeat? He’s beginning to think of a believable excuse to take this back and to apologize to Blaine, but then Blaine is tackling him into a hug and Kurt cries out, _“Blaine, don’t throw us over the fire escape, my god!”_ and Blaine is laughing and crying at the same time and only he can make it sound adorable. 

“We’re really doing this?” Blaine asks with tears in his eyes once he breaks away from Kurt. “Are we actually doing this?”

“Only if you want to,” Kurt says, though he can see now that Blaine _does_ want to. He sits down on the fire escape and starts furiously scribbling on the sheet of paper. Kurt tries to peek at Blaine’s wish list, but Blaine laughs and covers it so that Kurt won’t see what he’s writing down. As soon as he’s done, he rolls it up like Kurt has, and the two of them tie their respective wish lists to their ribbon. Then each of them inflates a balloon, ties the ribbon around it, and they hold each other’s hands and their balloons on the other hand, tightly holding on to them. 

“Ready?” Kurt asks, and Blaine nods enthusiastically, like he’s a child again. They both count to three and release their balloons into the open sky, above the honking of cars and the top of the skyscrapers and the noise from the busy streets of New York City. Blaine bounces on his feet and shakes Kurt’s arm, pointing to their balloons as they vanish from sight. 

Blaine leans against him. He sighs contently, and Kurt feels his heart soar inside his chest, like it wants to accompany the balloons to wherever they’re going. 

“What did you write in your wish list?” Blaine asks, quietly, like he doesn’t want to disturb or interrupt this moment. 

“Honestly, one of my wishes was that the balloons wouldn’t pop as soon as we let them go.” Blaine laughs, and Kurt wants to dedicate the rest of his life to making his husband laugh, it’s his favorite sound in the _world_. 

“Wanna know what I wished for?”

Kurt turns to him with a playful frown. “I thought you didn’t want me to look at your wish list.”

“It’s a habit,” Blaine says. “Cooper was always trying to peek at my list, I did it as an automatic response.”

“All right.” Kurt leans his head on top of Blaine’s. “What did you wish for?”

Blaine takes a deep breath that only builds the eagerness inside Kurt. 

“I wished,” his husband says, “for us to be happy for the rest of our lives. For good things to come our way. For us to keep learning together and to keep making each other better.” 

Kurt wraps an arm around Blaine’s shoulders and pulls him against his own body to embrace him, to kiss him, to feel him breathe and relish in the joy of Blaine’s heart beating against his chest. With a husband like Blaine, with a life like the one he has, like the one they share together… what else could Kurt really wish for?


End file.
